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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068649">Nap Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporaryistemporary/pseuds/temporaryistemporary'>temporaryistemporary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Michael my beloved, Platonic Relationships, Protective Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), Tommyinnit is best uncle, Traumatized TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), platonic marriage, resurrected tommyinnit, this is about the characters not the people</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:27:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporaryistemporary/pseuds/temporaryistemporary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Michael finds a stranger in his room and decides they need a nap to calm down.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Tommyinnit &amp; Tubbo &amp; Ranboo, Tubbo &amp; Ranboo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Best of MCYT's, Completed stories I've read, Cute MCYT, Purrsonal Picks</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nap Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>do not take any of this as shipping or I swear I will end you</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy’s chest seized with terror as he stumbled through the spruce trees, wildly swiping branches away from his face and body. An arrow whizzed by his head as he finally broke through the tree line and he shrieked, sprinting towards the familiar home of his friend. He burst through the door, slamming it behind him and collapsing against it. The house seemed empty, devoid of all its usual noise. Tommy wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.</p><p>He had just wanted to visit Tubbo but had gotten lost in his own thoughts and hadn’t noticed how dark it had gotten. When the mobs had come out Tommy had panicked, especially when a zombie had gotten a particularly good hit on him, sending sharp pains all up his arm. The rest of his body wasn’t any better, skin tingling in a way similar to a limb falling asleep.</p><p>A sudden pounding on the door made him yelp and he scrambled away from the noise. The groaning of zombies and rattling of bones were all he could hear on the other side. Without thinking Tommy ran to the ladder on the opposite wall, scaling up and unlatching the trap door above it.</p><p>The room he found himself in was large, with various paintings, and bookshelves against one wall, but he paid none of it any mind, zeroing in on the table in the room and throwing himself under it. The white tablecloth stretched almost to the floor, masking him in darkness. Tommy curled into himself and pressed his face into the cold wood, doing his best to ignore the mobs outside. He let himself take a few deep breaths and cursed quietly at himself for his cowardice.</p><p>Ever since his resurrection, the feeling of taking damage in any way was nearly unbearable. Everything hurt so much worse. He had almost sent himself into a panic after missing a water bucket, what normally would’ve been nothing more than a bruised knee and some scraped palms turned into a full shock through his system, one that left him gasping for breath. So he tried to avoid it whenever he could, hence his current predicament.</p><p>Rationally, Tommy knew nothing could get him up here. He was safe in Tubbo’s house, his best friend had promised that.</p><p>He still froze when he heard a huffing sound in the room, hugging his knees to his chest. He thought it might have been a dog at first but the noise of something scraping was one he recognized to be hooves against wood.</p><p>
  <em> Was there a fucking cow or some shit up here? </em>
</p><p>The tablecloth ruffled and Tommy covered his mouth to stifle a whimper. <em> Nothing could hurt him here</em>, he repeated to himself, <em> Tubbo wouldn’t let anything hurt him and he wouldn’t let anything hurt Tubbo</em>.</p><p>A pink snout pushed its way under the fabric, snuffling a few times, before the rest of the head followed. It was a baby zombie Piglin with floppy ears and one giant, glazed over eye. The thing was gazing at him, their little snout twitching as they wiggled closer. Tommy sat up at best he could under the table and shuffled backwards a bit, hunching over himself and staring blankly as the child situated themself to sit across from him, head tilted to the side. They were wearing Overworld clothes, a tiny pastel shirt and light overalls with the name Michael stitched onto the front.</p><p>(He vaguely remembered Tubbo mentioning him and Ranboo adopting a child named that. Was this him?)</p><p>The Piglin (<em>Michael?</em>) huffed at him again, and Tommy’s eyes snapped up to meet his one working one, less than a foot away. He watched warily as the kid reached out a tiny hooved hand, freezing as it brushed against his loose hair that hung limply from his head, dirty from neglect. The child seemed in awe of the white streaked blonde strands, so long that they fell just past his shoulders. It was kind of cute, watching the kid babble nonsensically, soft snorts and squeals falling from his mouth. Tommy found himself relaxing, barely noticing when the Piglin wriggled his way into his lap.</p><p>“Hello,” he breathed out, settling his arms around the kid.</p><p>Michael huffed back at him, simply staring at him again. Tommy almost felt like the child was staring into his very being and he squirmed under his gaze. Mentally, he slotted through his inventory, searching for something to get the other’s attention off of him. The only thing he could find of note were his golden apples. Piglins liked gold, right?</p><p>He brought one out and held it up to Michael, who squealed in excitement and gripped the fruit in his tiny hands. The Piglin then got out of Tommy’s lap and crawled out from under the table, Tommy following him a second later. He trailed hesitantly after the kid to a corner of the room. There, hidden under a small shelf next to a window, was a hoard of sorts, with blankets and toys and other golden items (<em>was this the kid’s room?</em>). There were more golden apples too, some even having bites taken out of them. Michael placed his new fruit into the pile, right next to what seemed to be a homemade bee stuffy. He then quickly grabbed another object.</p><p>It was another plush, this one looking like a raccoon. The child held it out to Tommy, grumbling at him.</p><p>“That’s uh… pretty cool, little guy.” Tommy hummed after a moment, unsure. “Real poggers.”</p><p>Michael snorted, face scrunching up, and pushed the toy at him again, more insistently. And Tommy, still confused as all hell, reached out to take it, carefully holding it in front of him as if it would break. The Piglin made a noise again, turning back to the pile and grabbing the bee. He then gripped Tommy’s hand in his other and led them to the wall with the bookshelves. There were many more blankets and soft looking pillows all strewn about on the floor, reminding Tommy of when he was a child and Wilbur and him would bundle up in the library as his brother read him books until they both fell asleep.</p><p>He sat down in the pile and Michael dropped down next to him, holding out a book he must’ve grabbed. It was a children’s book, something about squids and the stars, Tommy wasn’t really sure but it looked dumb. He took the book anyway, setting the raccoon plush next to him and startling when the Piglin squealed in what seemed like distress. He gripped his chest, heart speeding up at the noise and looked at the child. Michael was staring at the toy he had dropped and Tommy swallowed, picking it back up. He looked back at the kid for confirmation, setting the plush in his lap when there was no negative reaction. Michael, hugging the bee toy to his chest, sidled up next to him as he opened the book.</p><p>It went on like that, Tommy reading and Michael leaning against his side, floppy ears perked up. Eventually, the kid was asleep, snoring into his arm, and Tommy could feel himself growing tired as well. He had spent most of the night being terrorized by mobs, after all. Without thinking, he fell backwards into the soft pile of blankets, holding the still sleeping Michael to his chest, and let his eyes slip closed.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Something felt off when Ranboo entered the Snowchester cottage, Tubbo right behind him.</p><p>They had stayed at Ranboo’s place the night before, both deciding it was far too dark and dangerous for Tubbo to attempt to travel all the way back to Snowchester. Phil and Techno had been off doing whatever and would be gone for quite some time so there was no danger in the anarchists catching the former president around their base.</p><p>Ranboo wasn’t sure what was wrong though. Nothing in the house seemed out of place, everything just as they left it, all the doors and windows were still closed, but…</p><p>The floor was slick with water, with the largest puddle being by the door, and a few smaller ones leading to the ladder. The enderman hybrid’s heart skipped a beat in his chest.</p><p>“Uh, Tubbo?” He called.</p><p>“Yeah.” Tubbo turned away from the chest he was dropping items in, following the others gaze to the melted snow making a mess of the floor. “What the hell? Has someone else been here?”</p><p>“I- I don’t know.” <em> Who else would even come here? </em> “I’m gonna check on Michael.”</p><p>“Right behind you, Big Man.”</p><p>They made their way to the ladder, Ranboo carefully pushing the trapdoor open, letting Tubbo crawl through and then shutting it behind them. The surprised gasp from his platonic husband made the hybrid jump and he whirled around, preparing for the worst.</p><p>But Tubbo was fine. The other was standing near the bookshelf, blocking Ranboo’s view of whatever was on the floor. He silently moved to stand next to the shorter boy, gazing down at the makeshift sleep area that had been made a few nights before and-</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>Tommy was laying in the middle of the bundle of blankets, his arm around Michael as the child cuddled into the other’s side with his bee, and the raccoon plush wrapped in his other arm. A stack of books sat next to them, some of Michael’s favorites. Both of them were fast asleep.</p><p>Ranboo snuck a glance at Tubbo, bewildered, only to find the boy wiping tears away with his sleeve. The other caught his staring, holding a finger to his lips. Tubbo then slipped a hand in his, dragging the hybrid to the trapdoor and back downstairs.</p><p>“We should let them rest.” Was the first thing the shorter boy said, swiping at his face again.</p><p>Ranboo nodded slowly and cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“I am,” Tubbo sniffled, “I am. I just- He’s looked so tired lately, and I know he hasn’t been sleeping well. Not just since the prison but for a while now.” The boy took a deep breath, leaning into the taller boy’s chest when he was pulled in for a hug. “This is the first time I’ve seen him so peaceful in so long. I just want it to stay that way, y’know?”</p><p>Ranboo rested his chin on the other’s head and curled his tail around him, humming under his breath. He thought of dark walls, and secret meetings, and smiling faces that haunted his nightmares.</p><p>“I know.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I saw a hc that someone commented on a TikTok video that Michael had his name sewn onto all his clothes so Ranboo would never forget it and I wanted to cry</p></blockquote></div></div>
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